


Put Your Hands On Me

by kenporusty



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Artist Hao, Based on something from Twitter, Canon Compliant, M/M, cute boys being cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23753245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenporusty/pseuds/kenporusty
Summary: Minghao found his new favorite canvas.
Relationships: Lee Seokmin | DK/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 5
Kudos: 42





	Put Your Hands On Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! This is based on a fanart from Twitter that took over my brain, and just wouldn't let me live. The artist gave me his blessing to post this!
> 
> It's [here!](http://twitter.com/seokminscum/status/1250134771088478208)  
> (That Twitter is a NSFW account, but the tweet is fairly SFW.)

Seokmin hissed with every one of Minghao's little touches. Despite the warm warm day Hao's fingers were cold, as were the various brushes he used gently. Seokmin turned his head to the side, watching Minghao's face crumple in concentration and smooth in satisfaction as he worked, using Seokmin's broad back as a canvas.

The question of using him as a canvas was a quiet one, quickly mumbled during a rushed breakfast in a tone only Seokmin was meant to hear. The other boy readily agreed, but their schedules meant that a date couldn't be set yet. But as fate had it, they had ample time, and the strong sunlight of early spring streaming in the windows of a disused office provided the place. Seokmin showed up first, Minghao following with his bag of supplies. Minghao watched the light catch in Seokmin's hair, in his eyes, and thought of nothing but ruining him. But first.

But first.

Seokmin unbuttoned his shirt and the breath caught in Minghao's throat like it always does. Like nearly a decade with the man didn't exist and he was seeing the fine skin tone, the even musculature, the soft shadows in his prominent collarbones for the first time. Seokmin grinned with too many teeth at Minghao and said nothing before sliding close for a gentle kiss. He sank to his knees and Minghao nearly dropped his bag. With another toothy grin, Seokmin scooted away, shucking his shirt, and stretching prone in a beam of sunlight. He pillowed his head on folded arms, and looked up at Minghao.

"Is this good?"

Minghao stopped shaking enough to set down his bag. He assessed the light and nodded. From his bag he produced a blanket and pillow, handing them to Seokmin.

"So you can be comfortable." Minghao explained.

Seokmin rearranged himself and made an overly dramatic crushed noise when Minghao settled across his thighs. With his brow creased in concentration he ran his fingers along the planes and folds of Seokmin's back. He pictured the image long ago, but now enjoyed this quiet moment, strangely intimate; not "he and I" but "us." A simple luxury. Seokmin relaxed into his touch, wiggling his hips from side-to-side as Minghao ran a slender finger under the seam formed by his belt.

"The pants have to go." Minghao said simply.

Seokmin propped himself on his elbows and twisted to look at Minghao with a mischievous expression.

"Then you have to get off."

"Later." Minghao winked, standing up to allow Seokmin room to lift his hips and push his pants and underwear off.

Minghao came back with paints and brushes, a little cup of water and a palette. He hummed to himself as he worked. Seokmin added words, and together they sang in the warmth of the sun, hoping no one would intrude on their time alone.

The first touch of paint was cold. A flat brush spreading a vast blue to contrast with lighter skin. Here Seokmin watched, and smiled as Minghao worked. The next touch felt less cold, the next.

The next.

The next.

Seokmin stirred softly, willing his body to be still. Minghao squeezed his thighs with his knees, whispering something in Mandarin. Seokmin barely heard his words, but knew what the other meant. So much time together, and language bleeds from one person to the next. Complete understanding wasn't needed. It never was. Even so long ago, when the barrier was more solid, they still understood one another.

His face lit up as a blue finger traced a heart on his cheek, filling the lines with color. Minghao sat back, admiring his work. Happy with the results he added one more drop of paint. Not to Seokmin's back, but to his hand, spreading the blue along his palms. With a loud SMACK, a yelp from the man below him, and a little snicker he left two blue hand prints on Seokmin's ass. Seokmin propped himself up again to pout at Minghao.

He slipped off the other, leaning in for a kiss. There was a shuffle and Minghao ended up underneath Seokmin, pressed into the blanket, head on the pillow. He moved carefully, trying not to crack the drying paint.

Minghao carefully repacked his supplies, folding the blanket around the pillow. Seokmin was careful buttoning his shirt. He turned his collar up to hide the blooming mark. Mingyu gave them a look when they came back to the dorm. Minghao smiled bashfully. Seokmin grinned brightly and disappeared for a shower.

**Author's Note:**

> (they had a lot of fun in that office o.o)


End file.
